


Kicking Myself

by Thunderrrstruck



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, F/M, Family, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Serious Injuries, ambulance ride, car crash, minimal LCH spoilers, teenager angst does not mix will with physical trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderrrstruck/pseuds/Thunderrrstruck
Summary: It's crazy to think about how one choice made differently could have drastically improved the flow of your life.[Takes place sixteen years after Psych: Lassie Come Home. Shawn and Juliet are parents of two kids.]
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Original Child Character(s), Juliet O'Hara & Original Child Character(s), Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer, Shawn Spencer & Original Child Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10
Collections: 4 Psychos Do BTHB, Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. The Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'ambulance ride' square of my squad's Bad Things Happen Bingo Board.

There was no truck.

There were no headlights.

There was no pain.

Except–

There was no pain, exploding like a New Year’s fireworks display, until that was all she could think about.

There were no headlights, gleaming like the hungry, yellow gaze of a wolf, until her dad’s head was swimming in gold.

There was no truck, barrelling without a change in speed, until it rammed them sideways off the road.

Genevieve’s head cracked into the window, and her shoulder jammed into the seatbelt crook, while her chest was cushioned by a giant marshmallow.

“Dad?” she grunted meekly. She tried to move her head but winced into submission at the dominating flames of pain sweeping over her. Every breath came with the screams of her nerves, screaming against the darkness, screaming against the stillness outside and in the car.

Muscling through a deep breath, she tried again: “ _ Dad? _ ” She groaned at the chaffing of the seatbelt against her exposed neck but did not stop shifting. All she was focused on was hearing anything from the man on the other side. However, between her laboured breathing and pounding heart, she heard nothing coming from the driver’s seat.

Biting her lip against the rawness left by the seatbelt, Vivi twisted to her left.

Dad wasn’t moving.

She squeezed her eyes tight to stave off the panic that was five seconds away from completely taking her over, but upon reopening, the five had become three.

_Where were they? Where was her phone? Was anybody coming?_ She had to call mom or call an ambulance; being the only one conscious, the responsibility rested on her aching shoulders, and hers alone.

Shouts came from outside the car. Vivi strained her ears to hear footsteps slapping pavement, squealing tires, and flashing lights.

Yet the harder Vivi squinted through the window for specific details, the fainter the world became. The very seat beneath her seemed to slip away. Her fingers closed around the door handle but felt nothing except air. She yearned to hang on a little longer, but she was coming to a different kind of darkness than the one around her. Warm and fuzzy, intoxicating like a blanket burrito…

///

The spell was broken before she could properly enjoy it. Sterile lights blared into her eyes. She fought to raise her hands to block the light, but someone’s fingers were on her forearm, pressing it back down.

“Where–?”

“Shh, calm down,” a figure close by urged. As expected when someone gives orders to  _ calm oneself _ , Vivi picked up the anxiety from where she left off prior to passing out. She tossed her gaze from the first figure to the next. Both were clad in turquoise, both were attending bed-ridden patients, one being her and the other lying on a gurney to her left…

“Is he– is dad–?” she choked, barely able to ask. Instead, she pushed against the hand holding her down, trying to sit upright.

“He’s going to be  fine ,” the EMT attending her bed said, more insistent than before. “Don’t move. We’ll be at the hospital soon enough.”

_ Hospital _ .

In an instance of surprise, she slackened, and the nurse was able to push her back horizontally. Black spots danced before her eyes.

“I didn’t see the car– if I hadn’t fought back–” she stammered. If she hadn’t punched that girl and gotten herself suspended from the team, Dad would not have needed to cut his investigation short to pick her up. Dad would not have been mad or worried about her and taken his eye off the road. Dad wouldn’t have been in the way. “ I should’ve–.”

“It’s not your fault,” the nurse reassured. Empty words from the innocent do-gooder. “You couldn’t have done anything, dear.”

Somehow, that made Vivi feel even worse.

///

In and out, her consciousness went. She hardly remembered a linear timeline, only flashes of events here and there. At one point, she saw her mother’s face above her, grim and stoic, her blond hair framing her creased forehead and down-pointing lips. At another point, Genevieve saw lights passing above her, a face in a mask looking ahead as it wheeled her away.

The next thing she knew, Vivi was opening her eyes to see the unconscious form of her brother, Darius, against her mother’s exhausted form. Juliet Spencer-O’hara kept watch with eyes obscured behind mostly-closed lids.

Vivi pushed herself to sit up but found it difficult due to the sling around her right arm. Shooting pains lapped up and down the entire length of her arm. To preserve her sanity, she merely strained her neck muscles to look around the room. Everything was as bland as to be expected.

It was the division which caught her eye.

The room was big enough for two beds, but the second one was obscured from view by a curtain. Washed-out lavender cloth barely gave the washed-out room any definition, let alone anything to distract her mind from her obvious plight: whether or not the curtain gave any indication of her father’s status. It only made sense to assume he, the other person in the crash, was in the same room as her, the same room as his waiting family. She flicked her eyes back to their default, forward position. She could stomach her guilt a bit better if she focused on the healthy non-victims. It kept her mind from imagining…

_ I can’t do this _ .

Bracing for the pain, Vivi spurred herself upright. She gritted her teeth, threw the blanket off her legs, and inched herself to the edge of the bed. When her toes reached the floor, she let all her weight drop onto her heels.

Big mistake.

She spilled to the tiles.

While breaking her fall with her one good hand, she just barely avoided the addition of a squashed nose to her injuries. But she could not withhold the yelp on her lips. There was a flourish of motion from the visiting chairs, and two pairs of feet lined up in her line of sight.

“Vivi! Are you okay?!” Mom gasped. Whether she was shocked from the immediate incident of Genevieve falling or just the entirety of that night’s events, Vivi couldn't tell.

“Yeah, Vive,” came the voice of Darius. A swirl of humiliation settled in her chest; she hated being seen as weak, especially when one of those prying eyes was her brother. Call it sibling rivalry, she wasn’t keen on giving him the easy upper hand like that. (Childish? Maybe...)

“Not now, Darius,” Juliet hissed, and Vivi picked herself up (with a groan) in time to see her brother settle himself back onto his chair. Focusing on her mother again, Vivi squirmed under the sudden increase in scrutiny. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Something inside of her cracked. Vivi felt something threaten to fall.

She ran a tongue over her lips and looked at her feet.

“Where’s dad?” she asked, meek.

In her periphery, Vivi watched Juliet’s stern expression melt, but she hadn’t the heart or willpower to acknowledge the face any further. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head towards the windows, opposite the curtain.

“He’s, um…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

From the sidelines, Darius took over.

“Dad hasn't shown signs of waking, yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this, I intended it to be an open-and-shut one-shot case, but as I neared the stopping point of this chapter, I began thinking about way to continue it and.... wellll, I really didn't feel like prolonging this section of the story out any longer. The easiest solution? Just make it a multi-chap!
> 
> Each chapter from here on out will be a Bad Things Happen bingo board fulfilment. (Unless I feel I've been too mean and decide to give the characters a break...)
> 
> Anyway, leave a review with what you liked about this chapter and/or what you'd like to see in the chapters to come! :) I'm always open to requests and inspiration.


	2. The Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn's still unconscious, and Juliet's tired of acting strong for the kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the "Please Don't Leave Me" bingo square.

A few days and no improvement is shown in his condition. Genevieve was discharged from intensive care yesterday evening and was even cleared to go home the following morning, but her physical health seemed to be the only thing that improved. Juliet, granting her daughter a few more days off from school, had called in to the attendance office to inform them that Vivi was still unable to attend. Physically, that may have been a bit of a stretch, but emotionally, it was the spot-on truth. It had only been one day since coming home from the hospital, and Juliet already noticed how quietly and sluggishly her daughter moved across the floors. Without a doubt, she knew Vivi was blaming herself for what happened, and the lack of change in her father’s condition only worsened the guilt.

_ How was Juliet handling it? _ one might ask. Juliet, meanwhile, was mad. She was mad at the person who decided to drink themselves into a tizzy and send her husband and daughter careening off the road. She was mad at the angle at which the truck hit, resulting in so much damage it made her fearful for what her future might look like. She was mad at the universe for allowing bad things to happen to good people. As a cop, she witnessed all sorts of bad people on the daily, and yet karma didn’t affect them as harshly. Aside from jail time and fines, those of her arrests seemed unfazed by the turn of time.  _ Why wasn’t the universe sending drunk drivers at them? _ she thought.

Juliet shook her head.

_ Oh, so you’re wishing misfortune on other people now? _ the little voice inside her nagged. Usually, her morality wasn’t such a  _ little _ voice, but now it had been reduced to a pain in the ass to even consider.  _ What are you becoming? _

Lifting Shawn’s hand with both of hers, she leaned her chin against his fingers and bit her lip. The sharp pain only barely kept tears from overflowing. With the kids home, watched and comforted by Karen, she had a safe distance at the end of which she could break down and sob, but her instincts continually kicked and scratched to hold the water in her eyes where it belonged. Everyone in the world had someone, she believed, whether it be a soulmate or a best friend or a parent. Everyone had someone to lean on when the times got rough. Well, times were rough now, and Juliet’s one person was trapped in a dreamland of which he might never exeunt.

“Shawn, I…” Her voice croaked through parched lips. All the water had diverted to her eyes., and it was too much to hold back. Her upbringing had built a dam, only now it cracked, and water spilled onto her cheeks. “Shawn, please,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

She watched through swimming visuals for a sign of life. A sign that he heard. For all she and the machines could tell, he slumbered on.

“O’Hara.”

Juliet jumped at the sound and twisted her torso to face whoever was behind her. Of all the faces to see voluntarily visiting a hospital, she hadn’t expected his.

“Carlton.” She turned back around to hastily rub at her eyes only to turn back before she had successfully drained her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. For some reason, he was the only person whom she wouldn’t feel embarrassed around during a breakdown. Their partnership on the force had built up a remarkable bond, something on which she could not put a label. To be completely candid, she hadn’t consciously considered it, but considering how their relationship had grown through complete transparency and one-hundred percent trust, she could easily say that he was her best friend. And vice versa. They knew, without asking, how the other was feeling on any given day. They knew, an instinctual type of knowing, when the other needed a pair of arms wrapped around their shoulders.

“I came for my friend,” he answered simply.

He came around and tugged the free chair over the floor to put it next to Juliet’s. She watched, frozen, as he ambled with one hand on the chair’s back and one on the cane he still carried with him. For “security purposes”, she knew. Lassiter wasn’t inclined to admit when he needed assistance – it took some prying and persistent worry for him to open up still – so whenever anyone asked about it (which was hardly ever, considering that people were still intimidated by the Santa Barbara police captain) and he said “my wife insisted”, Juliet knew what that was code for. She could have smiled to herself upon knowing that some things were constants. Now, she just barely did.

“You two did the same for me and Marlowe sixteen years ago,” he explained, now seated in the chair. “I’m returning the favour. Plus,” he breathed, “Spencer’s unconscious, so he won’t hear this, but – I care about him, too.”

Juliet managed a small chuckle. It was wet and laden with several different layers of thought, but at least it brought the corners of her lips upwards, even if slightly, for the first time in three days.

“Thanks, partner,” she said quietly, as that was the only volume she could manage without her voice cracking.

He placed a hand on hers before sitting back. Juliet frowned, wondering what else was going on in that head of his, when he suddenly put both arms around her shoulders and gave her a hug. The position of their bodies in the chairs made it awkward, but it was wholly appreciated. She put her arms around him.

The moment her head fell on his shoulder, the tears she had thought she got a handle on gushed out like they were late for a meeting with the floor. She tried and failed to stem the flow. All she could do about it was worry that she was staining Carlton’s coat with her sorrow.

If he cared at all about his coat, he said nothing.

///

In the house’s silence, the clatter of her keys on the table scratched her eardrums. On any given day, no matter how late she’d return, she would be greeted by the face and voice of her husband, Shawn Spencer. Whenever she worked late, she always told him not to wait for her, but in classic Spencer fashion, he never listened. In that instance of disobedience, she would be secretly happy – (who could be upset with a kiss on the lips after a stressful day at work?) – but in retrospect, it only made the absence of lovey, gushing phrases like “smushikins” and “sweetiepop” that much more apparent.

_ Shawn loved making up pet names _ , she thought, a ghost of a smile tracing her lips at the thought.

“Stop it,” she snapped.  _ He’s not gone, he’s going to make it _ , she fought herself. She fought and kicked and resisted while the back of her head ran the numbers.  _ Numbers aren’t everything _ , she reminded herself.  _ Sometimes, cases are different _ .

Despite the growling of her stomach, Juliet navigated her way to her bedroom. She tiptoed by the kids’ own, darkened rooms and slipped through the door to hers.

The room was not how she left it. The floor was clean, the bed was made, and the shades were already drawn. Juliet knew it must have been Karen’s way of helping, or relieving the stress she too had been feeling these past days. Either way, Juliet couldn’t appreciate it as much as she wanted to in her tired, tear-drained state. She shuffled to her side of the bed and collapsed onto the comforters. With her first inhale came the scent of Shawn, and as she sank further into the blankets, she pictured his arms pulling her against him and imagined his warmth soothing the knots in her shoulders. Once all of this was said and done, she promised herself she wouldn’t let another day end without a moment like this: blissful, happy, and warm, adrift in her lover’s arms.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered into the pillow.

Juliet cuddled the blanket tightly. Her arms tensed like a toddler’s as they cradled their favourite stuffed toy. She savoured every last bit of warmth until the dark of sleep took her under.


	3. The Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conscious Spencer-O'Haras receive some good news, but Vivi is still tortured by something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew the T rating would come to make sense! One f-bomb in here.  
> Also, yes, I changed tenses for this chapter, whatcha gon do about it?
> 
> Written for BTHB square "big brother instinct"

School begins once more for the Spencer-O’Hara kids. As they climb into the car, Mom promises it will be good for them to leave them house just as she promises that everything will be fine. While Darius struggles to put a smile on his face, he takes the leaf out of his mother’s book and forces on an optimistic filter. He understands that getting together with some schoolyard friends may help improve his mood, and as worried as he was, he is sick of the feeling.

From the backseat of the car, he can tell his sister is having a bit more trouble adjusting to the state of flux dictating their family’s situation. Whether Dad is going to wake up or not is the question which certainly holds Vivi’s usually flapping jaw shut.

By the time the dismissal bell rings, Dari’s nerves are considerably settled, partly because he was able to talk to his support network, his friends, who never fail to prop him up with jokes and girl-talk. However, most of his peace stems from the text Mom sent the family group chat.

Darius walks towards the main entrance and spots Vivi up ahead. Her hoodie covers her hair, but the collection of pins on her backpack (from rock-climbing pin, skating, and other outdoorsy activities) is unmistakable. Heart light and smile wide, Darius jogs up and taps her shoulder.

He anticipates the good mood to be reciprocated. When she turns her face to him, however, her eyes are rimmed with red, and her lips re sucked in behind her teeth. She looks morose.

“Dad’s awake,” he echoes the group text, willing his reinforced grin to be infectious.

“Yay,” she says. He can feel her trying, but it does not feel like she’s happy about this. He frowns.

“Vivi, he’s  _ awake _ . This is good news, man!” he urges with a nudge into her ribcage. She digs her elbow deep into his side but says nothing. Darius loses a few steps on her.

Once outside, he catches back up with her stride.

“Of course, it’s fucking happy news,” she spits, making her brother think the opposite of her intent. “Just because Dad’s awake doesn’t mean all my problems are gone.” Vivi looks ahead and recognition alights in her bloodshot eyes. “Let’s just go, okay? There’s Gus’ car.”

Without another word, Vivi picks up the pace. Darius, temporarily frozen, watches her with a sinking heart. The words ‘all my problems’ ring like alarm bells inside his head. She’d kill him if he became involved with whatever she’s facing, but as her brother, he feels obligated to uncover everything, top to bottom. Who or what did he have to shake down to make her feel alright?

—

Gus tries to make small talk at the start of the car ride, but after enough time flies by with only half answers to show for it, the three of them fall into silence. Only when the car pulls into the hospital parking lot does conversation spark.

“I’ll check us in once we get inside, and then we can go up to see your dad,” Gus says. Darius nods with a smile that reeks so evidently of the optimism he has been trying to hold the first part of the day. However, Vivi’s gloomy mood works to rub off on him, ever since school’s end. Despite how elated he is to have his father once more in the land of consciousness, his worries transfer to Vivi and settle rather permanently.

Darius speaks for the both of them when he says, “Okay, got it.” He signals a thumbs up, and they climb out of the car altogether.

—

Six days ago, the hospital was a dreaded place. Today, brighter shine the lights as they trek through sterile halls. Darius glances over at his sister to find her bottom lip trembling. He reinforces his smile and puts his arm around her shoulders only to feel her tensing under his hold.

They walk like this the rest of the way to Dad’s room. Upon entering, they are greeted with a pair of shining faces: Mom and Dad. Darius grins. Not even the oddity of seeing his father in a hospital gown, diminished by a life-sucking catastrophe, could squash the glee – which glows in his heart – out of him.

As they walk in, Gus devolves into a conversation with Shawn while Darius reaches for Juliet’s arms. He wraps his arms around her and lets himself feel like an eight-year-old again, searching for the solace only a parent’s hug can provide. 

Mom moves on to Vivi, who – when Darius checks over his shoulder – looks white as a ghost. Confusion rattles around in his chest.  _ Seeing Dad should be a good thing _ , he thinks, but before diving into deep contemplation, he tears his gaze from them to the man fresh from comatose.

“Heya, Dad,” he says with a weak smile. He leans his hands onto the edge of the mattress. Conversation with Gus fizzles as Shawn’s attention rolls onto his son. “Uh, how are you?”

“Well, a little bit out of the loop, but I’m here, aren’t I?” He pats Dari’s arm with the back of his hand. How relieving it is to see the vitality in his eyes, again.

“Yeah,” Darius agrees, lips spreading into a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, it’s good to see you again, Dad.”

“Right back atcha, buddy,” he says, patting Darius's closest arm with the back of his hand. He tilts his head over to peer behind his son. “Hey, Veevs!–”

A kerfuffle of rubber soles on tile erupts behind Darius. He follows his father’s eyeline just in time to see his sister’s sneaker disappear around the doorframe.

“Veevs?” Dad calls.

“I’ll go–” starts Mom, but Darius is already sprinting for the door.

He stops when he spots her form folded in on herself, her back pressed against the wall. Darius makes it in time to catch her arm before she can sink to the floor.

“Hey, Vivi, hey,” he coaxes gently. “What’s up, why the freak out?”

She can’t get a word out, as suddenly, she’s breaking out in sobs. She keeps glancing at him, swiping at tears and swallowing thickly, and he knows she’s trying to get ready to speak. But the tears continue to pour. He can sense her mental fortitude crumbling, while all he feels capable of doing is staring. She braces herself on his outstretched arms and pulls herself in. Darius does half the work, and he ensures this hug is the tightest hug of their lives (partially because he suspects if he loosens his hold to any lesser degree, she’d fall to the floor).

He makes up his mind: if she continues to cry, if she doesn’t, if she stains his shirt or his shirt escapes with a clean slate, he will not mind, not even if he drowns in a flood of her tears. Anything is worth not seeing her in pain.

Eventually, she lifts her head off his shoulder. He feels her palms press into his shoulders, shoving him a step back. He tries to keep his hold on her forearms, but his fingers are being wedged off her skin.

“It’s my fault,” she chokes out, gaze dragging on the floor.

“How’s it–?” Darius stutters to a stop. How is he even to reply to that? “What are you saying? How can it  _ possibly _ be your fault?”

Genevieve covers her eyes with her hands. Through stifled sobs and peeks between her fingers, she whispers, “Jan was saying these things, and if I’d held my tongue, if I hadn’t  _ punched _ her– I wouldn’t have need to– Dad wouldn’t’ve been there– it wouldn't have been us in the way.”

“Dad doesn’t blame you, Vivi.”

“He should!”

“You’re the only one blaming yourself,” Darius realises. “Literally no one–”

“No, nono, stop right there–”

“Vivi, _you_ stop it! Listen to yourself! It's not you faul–."

_ “SHUT UP!” _

Darius reels back a couple steps. His eyes shoot wide open. He gulps down the hurt clawing at his heart and tries again in reaching out, this time attempting to place a gentle palm on her shoulder to pull her out of the shell she’s making with her body.

“Just... shut it, shut up,” she whines.

He circles her with his arms. They may squabble like any sibling pair. They may have their competitions and moments of dislike. Yet at the end of the day, he listens to what his gut tells him, and the right thing to do is not trying to convince her of her innocence. Being there is all she needs of him. He rests his chin on top of her head and keeps her locked in a hug. He knows she needs it. He knows because he knows her.

_ It’s what a big brother does best. _


End file.
